Tainted Mind
by Shadowed Angel 009
Summary: Stan is 13 now, and everyone hates him. StanKyleKenny. Kenny will be in ch. 9. My first story, so PLEASE R&R. Thanks for the reviews! 19 reviewsnext chappie.
1. Sucky Life

Stan stared into the mirror in front of him. He stared into the boy who lives inside it. 'No,' he thought, 'Not a boy. You're a MONSTER.' He looked around his room for something—anything. Nothing. He punched his own fist into the face of the monster in front of him. The glass shattered into the floor. "Shattered," he said, with a quivering voice, "Just like Wendy."  
  
He jerked his now-black hat off and threw it into the floor. All he wore now was black. Black and red. He had changed so much. Most everybody was scared of him. Every sense he was accused of Wendy's death. And after all these years, he had partly come to believe he was to blame, too. But to tell the truth, he didn't really remember what had happened. It was so long ago, 5 years to be exact. When he was only 8. And now he was some kind of 13-year-old killing machine. At least that's what everybody thought.  
  
He walked into the kitchen to find something to eat. Or at least to drink. Every sense his father left him and his sister, they were poor. His mother had 2 jobs, yet they could barely afford food.  
  
"HEY! ASS-HOLE! WHY ARE YOU IN HERE?!"  
  
Stan turned around to see his 17-year-old sister. He looked at the floor and shrugged, knowing what was going to happen next. It was always what happened next. Always the same thing, over and over.  
  
She swung her fist at him, hitting his jaw. He stumbled back into the refrigerator. She swung at him again, hitting him in the same exact place. He fell to the ground and watched her walk off, while blood dripped down his chin, and down his shirt. He stood up and held the side of his face.  
  
The refrigerator was empty, except for some type of mushy, brown food in a plastic container and 5-month-old soda. He choked both of them down, trying not to vomit. He could still taste blood.  
  
Even after he had eaten, he still felt the urge to consume some something. But he knew there was nothing left to eat. He would have gone to Kyle's house for food, but Kyle's parents were tired of feeding him. Kyle was probably even tired of it, too.  
  
His sister was always off somewhere with her friends. SHE got food. SHE had friends. "IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" he screamed out, slamming his fist into the wall. His knuckles slowly started to bleed. He panted hard... like a dog. Like a MONSTER. He pulled his fist back and examined the bloody nails that were in the hole.  
  
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BASTARD! I'M ON THE PHONE!!" his sister screamed at the top of her lungs.  
  
Stan growled at her and stormed up to his room with a twisted, distorted smile forming on his face. His eyelids lowered as he thought about it—the death of his sister. 


	2. I Missed You

Stan had thought about the death of his sister many times—When would he do it? How? What would he use to do it with? Would he torture her first? These questions were often thought about. The most pleasing way he could think of would be to tie her up and stick needles into her skin. One by one. Then jerk out her teeth one by one. Make her drink her own blood. Dislocate her jaw. Watch her scream and cry in pain. Stick rusty nails in her eyes. Just thinking about this brought a smile to his face.  
  
He had experimented with death many times. Kittens, puppies, frogs, rats, anything he could get his hands on. It was all so pleasing to him. To watch those stupid creatures die. DIE. He began to laugh out loud. An evil, psycho laugh.  
  
He didn't WANT to be like this, he just WAS. So many people had suggested psychotic help. But he just sneered at them and turned away every time, thinking about their death. Oh how pleasing that would be.  
  
He stopped laughing and stared into the shards of glass on his bedroom floor that used to be his mirror. He counted them. 22. 22 monsters staring back at him. The faces staring back at him were so.... pale. Dull black hair that had lost its shine. Cold blue eyes with only a pinpoint pupil.  
  
He picked up a piece of glass. "Better save this for later." He slid it into his back pocket.  
  
The doorbell rang at Kyle's house. Kyle answered it to find an awful looking Stan. He hadn't seen him at his house for so long. 'I wander why he came,' Kyle asked himself, looking Stan up and down. 'Well at least he CAME.'  
  
"Hey, man. Just needed someone to talk to. Of course, if you don't want me here, I can-"  
  
"No, dude. Come in. I'm glad to see you. I haven't seen you sense the last day of school. And... you haven't talked to me sense your dad left..... What have you been doing? You look awful!"  
  
"Thanks," Stan replied, sarcastically.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"No it's OK. I'm just really down."  
  
They went up to Kyle's room and talked about all that had happened sense they had last seen each other. Stan was surprised to see that Kyle had missed him so much.  
  
Stan was still at Kyle's at 10:30pm. They were sitting on Kyle's bed watching TV and eating popcorn. They grabbed handfuls of popcorn almost rhythmically. They were like zombies, just staring at the TV. Except for the glance from Kyle to Stan every minute or so. 


	3. Let's Just Talk

Stan was at Kyle's house watching TV with him on his bed. He looked at the clock—1:45am. "Hey, Kyle, I better go home. It's getting late."  
  
"Your sister's the only one there, isn't she?"  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
"Well, I was just thinking you could stay here tonight."  
  
"Well... OK. I don't think Shelly will miss me too much." They both laughed.  
  
Kyle gave Stan some of his pajamas to put on, and they both changed clothes. Stan had planed on taking a shower, but he just didn't feel like it. They both went back to watching TV.  
  
Stan hated TV now. Especially Terrance & Philip. He pretended to like that show when he was little, but he couldn't any more. "Can we watch something else?"  
  
Kyle tilted his head in surprise. "You want to watch something different than Terrance and Phillip?"  
  
Stan nodded.  
  
Kyle handed him the remote control and stared at him.  
  
Stan cut off the TV. "Look, can we just talk or something?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess we can just.... talk. About what?"  
  
"I'm really sorry I haven't talked to you in so long. I just...... I don't know. I just feel like some kind of monster or something.... I LOOK like some kind of monster. You know my dad left. And now my mother has two jobs. But did you know that Shelley tries to beat me to death sometimes? I lay in bed almost every night and cry... And I feel so weak. So helpless. I mean, I'm constantly hungry and stuff.... Well I don't know what I mean and...." his voice tuned into a cry.  
  
"It's OK, Stan," Kyle said, putting his arms around him.  
  
Stan cried for almost two hours, still in Kyle's arms. Every sense his dad left, his mother was never around. He became such a rebel, and Kenny and Cartman never cared about him. He thought Kyle wouldn't care either.... And now he had someone to cry to.  
  
When Stan stopped Crying, Kyle was about to cry, too. He had no idea what his best friend had been through.  
  
Stan fell asleep in Kyle's arms. It wasn't that they were gay. Stan just needed someone to talk to. 'Or ARE we gay?' Stan asked himself. 'NO!!! We CAN'T be gay! Were just REALLY GOOD FRIENDS!' he thought, almost out loud. Almost screaming. He took Kyle's hand in his and fell asleep. 


	4. First Time

Kyle woke up wrapped up in Stan's arms with Stan holding his hand. Millions of thoughts and questions went through his mind. 'Was he thinking that I..... I was trying to make him feel better.... but he thought...... And he's kind of.... cute this way...' He stared at Stan's peacefully sleeping face. It looked so different.... Not at all like the angry, depressed look on his face when he was awake.....  
  
Stan suddenly opened his eyes, startling Kyle. Kyle jumped back.  
  
"Sorry man. Didn't know I was THAT scary looking..."  
  
"No it's just... You don't look scary! You just need a nice warm bath and some food."  
  
Stan's lips began to form a smile, but then stopped. "Yeah, I am kind of hungry. And I stink! I didn't know I stunk this bad!" he said, sniffing the air.  
  
"You can go take a shower. What do you want to eat?  
  
"Uh..... do you guys have steak or chicken or something like that?"  
  
Kyle raised his eyebrow. "I think so. MOOOOOMMMMM!"  
  
"WHHAAAAAT, KYYYLLLE?" His mother screamed in an irritated voice.  
  
"CAAANNN WEEEE HHAAAAVVVE MMEEEEEAAATT FOOORR BRREEEAAAKKFFAAAASSST?"  
  
"WHHYYY?"  
  
"CAUUUSSSE STANN... Oops..."  
  
"STAN?! STAN'S HERE?!" She ran up to his room and almost busted down the door.  
  
Stan's eyes got bigger and a sweat drop ran down his face, followed by heavy breathing.  
  
Kyle's mom grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him out into the living room.  
  
"MOM! Let him stay!"  
  
"Kyle! He'll steal something! Or, or break something or something... AGAIN!" she said, and shoved him out the front door.  
  
When Stan got back into his house, Shelly was sitting in the kitchen talking on the phone. Even though she was only 17, her boyfriend was 34. Stan tried to sneak pas her, but she spotted him.  
  
"ASSHOLE WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU? You had me worried..." She said, smiling. She walked over to him and hugged him. '...the Hell?' he thought.  
  
Suddenly he felt her hands wrap around her neck. Tighter and tighter... He jerked away and ran into the bathroom. The piece of glass was still in his pocket. He sliced his arm deeply and the glass fell to the floor...  
  
Stan had never cut himself before. He grabbed his arm to try to stop the throbbing pain. He could hear the beat of his heart in his ears. Panic attack? He sat on the floor and hugged his knees, forming a ball and rocked back and fourth. He could still hear his heart... THUMP thump.... THUMP thump... THUMP thump... over and over, getting louder and faster every second, until he could no longer hear anything else.  
  
Warm blood ran down his arm onto the floor, making a dark red puddle... It mixed with the water Shelly had spilt on the floor from her shower. He studied it. It was funny... almost anything else would of turned pink. But the blood made little ripples of pure red in the clear water.  
  
He closed his eyes tightly. He could feel the room around him spinning... All his thoughts spinning... His world spinning... And, somehow, it made him feel happy. The pain erased his emotions, much like the emotional pain he had felt all those years. Only he could stop the physical pain. He could stop ALL the pain.... He decided this is what he would do instead of cry... Because only weaklings cry. A smile spread across his face... sick and twisted.... 


	5. Reaction

Kyle turned the doorknob. The door opened, and he stepped in. He tried to catch up with Stan, but he was running too fast. Kyle wandered around the broken-down house, an expression of confusion on his face. Sense when did Stan's house look like Kenny's? He found Stan's room. He knocked. No answer. He opened the door, no one there. 'Where did he go?'  
  
"Shelly? Where'd Stan go?"  
  
"Kyle? That you?" She said, suddenly in his face.  
  
"Yeah....?"  
  
She hugged him and put his hands near her chest. "My boyfriends out of town....." She said, her speech slurred. "I'd love to suck on YOUR dick, sexy...."  
  
He could tell she was drunk. She smelled like she had bathed in alcohol. 'Wow,' he thought, 'Stan has it pretty bad around here...' He jerked away. "Where's Stan!!"  
  
She made a puppy face and sulked. "He's in the bathroom... But-"  
  
"The bathroom!" He walked to the bathroom. The door was open. He walked in. And there he was: Stan, sitting in a puddle of blood. A puddle of his OWN blood. He was still steadily bleeding. And the worst part? He was SMILING.  
  
"STAN!" Kyle cried out, covering his mouth with his hands. His eyes narrowed. "STAN! NOOOO!"  
  
"Dude. I'm not dead, you know."  
  
"Wha.... WHAT DID YOU DO?!"  
  
"I dunno." Stan shrugged. His head turned away and squinted his eyes.  
  
Kyle grabbed Stan's wounded arm and started crying. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?" he cried out through sobs. "WHY??'  
  
"Kyle, it's OK! Sheesh!" he scowled, trying to jerk away.  
  
"No it's not......... IT'S NOT OK! Why the hell'd you do this?"  
  
Stan shrugged and buried his head in his other hand. Kyle's green eyes beat down on Stan's, forcing him to look back. "I.... don't know." he choked out, crying. He looked at his bleeding arm. 6 cut marks. It didn't feel as bad as it looked. It looked disgusting. He opened his mouth and stared blankly at Kyle's hand, which was on his arm. He put his hand on Kyle's.  
  
Kyle pulled his hand back, frowning. He stood up, shaking the blood off of him and wiped away his tears. "You.... you better watch out...... Your gonna get yourself killed..." he whispered angrily, walking out of the bathroom.  
  
Stan stared angrily at the floor. He could barely move for the dried blood that covered his shirt. It felt so disgusting. He ripped his shirt off and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding arm. The smell of blood filled the air.  
  
Stan stood up and walked into his room, where Kyle was sitting. "Dude.... I-I'm........ sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. I-I... mean, in all of those movies and books... It's no big deal when people........."  
  
Kyle stood up and glanced at him, as if to say "Just shut up about it!" He walked closer to Stan. "Dude, you have to realize that this ISN'T a book... or a movie..... This is REAL! Those scars...." he sighed, "Those scars are going to be on your arm FOREVER. Sure they look cool in a way, but..... But one of these days your gonna wish they weren't there." He pulled up his sleeve...Seven dark red marks, mostly faded, scared his left arm.  
  
Stan gasped. "YOU did it? Why the hell would YOU do that?  
  
Kyle sighed. "I'll tell you later, I don't want to talk about it now. Just promise me you won't hurt yourself any more."  
  
Stan nodded his head, crying. He wrapped his arms around Kyle. "I promise." Stan whispered, half crying. He stared into Kyle's eyes and their lips met.  
  
Later that night they both woke up on Stan's bed. "Dude, that was totally fucked up," Stan said, and sat up. "But I liked it. For some odd reason I LIKED it."  
  
"I did too. It wasn't THAT fucked up, was it?"  
  
"Yeah, dude, it was. I'm gonna go get a shower. You can stay here if you want."  
  
Kyle sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes. If he stayed, his mother would be bitching about it for the next 3 weeks. On the other hand, if he stayed, he could....... stay. "I'll stay," Kyle said, with a sneering smile on his face. Cartman was right all of those years.... his mother WAS a big fat bitch. 


	6. Worst Ch Ever

Stan stepped into the shower and scrubbed the dried blood, dirt, and dead skin off of his body. The hot water burned his skin, but he didn't notice. He scrubbed all of the dirt and oil out of his hair. It had gotten so long. It flopped in his eyes. 'I guess I'll cut it when I get out,' he thought, rinsing soap off of his body. Red and brown water went down the drain and hair clogged it up.  
  
Stan cut the water off and stepped out. He opened the cabinet under the sink, took out a white towel, and wrapped it around himself. Red stripes covered his left arm. He ran his fingers over them. Why? Why did he do it? He wanted to do it again..... It was like an addiction.  
  
He walked into his room, where Kyle was sitting. Kyle looked at him—only a towel. He wanted so bad to go back to the carefree life of when they were kids.... He missed Kenny's company. He missed Butter's company. He even wanted Cartman back as a friend. He wanted to go back so badly. But he couldn't. He was nothing but a dirty little gay Jew.  
  
Stan looked into Kyle's eyes and wandered what he was thinking. He looked so sad and confused. Then it came to him—Kyle missed the past. He sat down beside him and put his arm around him. "I miss it too, Kyle." he sighed. "I miss it too."  
  
He thought very deeply about his childhood. His life was such a waste now. There's nothing you can do about it, the voice in his head told him. He just wished he could go back. Back before Wendy's death. Before he was a monster. He loved that girl more than anything in the world. More than life it's self. If he could just remember what had happened...  
  
Tears blinded his crystal blue eyes and ran down his cheek. He remembered.... 


	7. Wendy Part 1

Stan smiled as he pushed Wendy on the wooden swing that hung from the tree in her grandma's yard. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The sky was so blue and pure.  
  
Wendy closed her eyes and giggled, letting her wet hair fly into her mouth. She had on a purple T-shirt and bell-bottom blue jeans. Her hair was long and wavy, crowned with a wreathe of bright, colorful flowers. She claimed she looked like she came from the 60's, but Stan said she was beautiful.  
  
"Push me higher!" she giggled.  
  
Stan pushed her as high as he could.  
  
Wendy jumped out of the swing, landing in a patch of purple flowers.  
  
"Are you OK?" Stan cried out, running to her. She just looked up at him and giggled. He laid down beside her and stared into her eyes. They were so green today. So sexy. They matched the color of the surrounding grass.  
  
Wendy sighed. "It's such a beautiful day...."  
  
"Not nearly as beautiful as you..."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "That's so typical."  
  
Stan frowned.  
  
Wendy could barely keep a straight face. She started giggling again and rolled over on top of him.  
  
"What are you doing??"  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing, silly?" She whispered and kissed him on the lips. His tongue entered her mouth.  
  
It started to thunder.  
  
Stan pushed her off of him and stood up. "We should go in."  
  
"No!" She stood up and grabbed his hands.  
  
"Wendy, we have to go in!"  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.......... 


	8. Wendy Part 2

"But I wanna stay out here with you....." Her smile was distorted... almost as if it wasn't even her's. Her eyes were narrow and yellow looking. She squeezed his hands as hard as she could. Her nails dug into his hands like claws until blood seeped out.  
  
"But Windy..."  
  
She started laughing... almost wickedly.  
  
"Windy! WERE GOING IN!"  
  
She let go of his hands and frowned. "I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE."  
  
"What if you get struck by lightning? HUH? THEN WHAT?!"  
  
"THEN Let it strike me..." she said and stomped her foot. A deafeningly loud crackle startled them both as soon as her foot reached the ground. A yellow streak of light darted towards her and hit the tree behind her.  
  
Her eyes and smile went back to normal. She turned around and sparks flew into her eyes. A piece of wood fell from the tree through her stomach, pinning her too the ground. "Help me, Stan!!!"  
  
Stan couldn't stand the sight. Blood poured from her stomach, turning a dark brown color. He just stood there, mouth wide open, teary-eyed, staring at her. He backed up slowly, shaking his head. "N... no...... Noo..... NOOOO!" He turned around and ran.  
  
"Stan! STAN!" Wendy screamed. "Help me!" She cried out in pain. She screamed and cried.  
  
Stan's foot caught a tree branch and he fell to the ground. He turned around.  
  
She screamed again, blood running out of her mouth. She started choking. "Stan! Please, Stan, kill me! KILL ME!!!"  
  
He could hear the pain in her voice. He took the biggest rock he could find and bashed her on the head. She went limp and the blood stopped pouring out of her mouth. He fell to his knees. "NOOOOOOOO!" "WENNNNNNNDYYYYY!"  
  
Her head fell to the side and the beautiful flowers on her head fell off into his hands. He gripped them as tight as he could. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" he cried.  
  
He looked at her face. It was so lifeless.... So dull. Her eyes were half way open. She was looking at him when he killed her... HE KILLED HER. He felt the skin on her face. It was no longer soft and warm. It was rubbery and cold.  
  
He couldn't take it any more. He snapped. All of his sanity was either drained out of him or hidden behind the anger and guilt. He stood up, shaking off the blood.  
  
He reached into his pocket for his pocketknife. The blade left a thin trail of red as it slid across Wendy's beautiful face. He sliced it as hard as he could. But it wasn't enough. He stabbed violently at her head. The bone eventually cracked, exposing her brain. It seeped out of the holes.  
  
Then he shredded every part of her body. All that was left was bones, shreds of bloody clothing, and the pink and red slimy lumps of flesh that used to be the beautiful girl he loved.  
  
Just as he turned away, he heard the sirens... 


End file.
